


It's Hard To Take You Serious When You Take Me Inside

by MissMoochy



Series: MissMoochy's Spideypool Bingo Oneshots [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Enabler Wade Wilson, Exes, Friends With Benefits, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Peter Parker, POV Wade Wilson, Peter Benjamin Parker Needs a Hug, Possessive Sex, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Break Up, Service Top, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Spideypool Bingo Prompt: [Alpha Voice]. Wade and Peter don't spend much time together these days but Peter knows he can call on Wade if he needs a strong alpha to help him through his heat. But it's very much on Peter's terms.
Relationships: Peter B. Parker/Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: MissMoochy's Spideypool Bingo Oneshots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813951
Comments: 14
Kudos: 305





	It's Hard To Take You Serious When You Take Me Inside

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote Peter B. Parker from Into The Spider-Verse! Give me grizzled, grumpy, whiskery Peter any day!

_I had a dream, this one I feel the need to mention_

_I was happy for a while and I stopped being scared_   
_And ashamed to say what's on my mind_   
_But you thought I'd change after a while_   
_And said, "You'd better treat me different, or else..."_

_"Or else" seems like a stupid fucking thing to say_   
_To someone like me, someone like me_

_Wow._

_Don't be surprised I can look you in the eye_   
_It's hard to take you serious when you take me inside_

**_Wow -- Marilyn Manson_ **

* * *

Wade was knocking back beer and chatting to Weasel and Dopinder when his phone buzzed with a text. He didn’t have many people who bothered contacting him, and he had more burner phones than Q-tips, so it probably wasn’t a work thing. He glanced down at the screen and saw the contact name. He froze. To Weasel and Dopinder’s alarm.

 **_Peter:_ **Heat. Get over here.

Wade slipped the phone in his pocket, chugged the last of his beer and threw on his jacket.

“Who was that, sir?” Dopinder asked.

“My ex-fiance,” Wade murmured.

“Stupid, independent omega,” Wade grumbled under his breath as he ran along the street. His bags of shopping thumped against him, the thin straps cutting into his arms. Peter hadn’t asked him to bring anything, but he had to, really. Things would be so much easier if Peter would accept help. He’d probably been planning to endure his heat alone. But inevitably, it had got to the point where he hadn’t been able to handle it anymore, he’d finally caved and begrudgingly sent out that text. Wade could picture it perfectly, Peter, scowling. Finally caving and swiping on his phone, stabbing at the screen with more force than was needed. He must have had to swallow his pride to send that text. Wade would have loved to gloat, but if he did, he’d ruin the chance at Peter sharing a future heat with him. Peter would ride out the next one, white-knuckling and biting his lips so hard they bled. But he wouldn’t turn to Wade for help. As long as Peter didn’t turn to another alpha. Wade honestly didn’t think he’d be able to bear that. He’d probably kill the guy. He knew the nice, wholesome thing to do is accept that your ex has moved on, but damn it, he couldn’t accept shit. They were _meant_ to be together. But Peter had to go and unanimously decide that they’d be better off if they parted. Wade hated him for that. Could kill him for it. It hadn’t been a clean break. And yeah, maybe Wade had handled things poorly. Breaking into Peter’s flat and scent-marking everywhere had been a bad idea. He’d only wiped a few items of clothing on his neck but Peter had freaked out. At least he hadn’t blocked Wade’s number. Yet.

* * *

The sweet omega scent grew stronger as he got closer. It was filtering under the gap of Peter’s front door, and he spared a moment to worry that the scent might attract unwanted attention of the alpha variety. He should have bought scent blockers when he was out. Oh well. Once Wade was in there, his scent would deter any interlopers. It would be fine.

Peter opened the door for him, and Wade’s breath rushed from him in a gasp. _Peter._ He looked much the same as ever, brown hair with eyes to match, rough stubble and a permanent frown. His face still made Wade feel as if he’d swallowed a bunch of Mexican Jumping Beans.

“Peter, how have you been?”

“Did you bring food?”

Wade sighed. “Got it here, babe. Get your fill.” He followed Peter inside and tossed the bags on the mattress. Peter lunged for them, tearing straight through the plastic instead of untying it. Wade had tied the handles together to stop the contents from spilling out, but apparently, Peter couldn’t wait.

“You bought a lot,” Peter said. It might have sounded like a criticism, but Wade acknowledged it for the stilted approval it was. Peter picked up a cold ham and cheese baguette, ripped it out of its cellophane wrapper and crammed it in his mouth. “‘m starvin’.”

“Careful, you’ll choke,” Wade told him, only to receive an eye-roll in return. Peter always had the most beautiful eyes. They were looking a little wild now, with heavy, shadowed bags beneath them. He hoped Peter was managing to sleep okay. He would have asked him, but the guy was only half-way through his sub and could still use the unchewed half as a projectile to throw at Wade’s head if he was given a reason to do so.

Wade paced around the room, hearing the wet sound of Peter’s teeth tearing into the bread. That sound seemed to follow him around the room. 

“You been keepin’ busy?” he asked him for something to say. Peter ignored him, now getting started on the chicken pieces. Cold, ready-to-eat. Good. Get that protein. That’s what he needs to build up strength. He knew that omegas felt a bit run-down before their heat and the heat itself burned a fair amount of energy.

“I was surprised to get your text. I didn’t think you got heats these days.” Peter had an irregular schedule. That was the only reason Wade didn’t track his heats and turn up at the apartment when he had one. Peter wouldn't turn him away, then. Couldn’t. But it was some medical issue, some hormonal thing, Wade wasn’t sure what the problem was. Maybe stress-induced? So, predicting Peter’s heats was about as accurate as predicting the lottery numbers. And those few times Peter had texted him, Wade felt like he’d won the lottery.

“Mphf,” Peter mumbled over his mouthful of chicken. At least he’d acknowledged him this time.

“How long do you think until you’re...you know?”

Peter swallowed and swigged from a bottle of water “You can’t wait to get started, huh? You only like me when I’m taking your knot, right?”

Wade made a vague gesture in the air. Not that it mattered. Peter wasn’t looking at him. “You know it’s not like that. And don’t give me that crap as if I’m the bad guy, sweetheart. You broke us up, I didn’t do shit.”

“Not this again,” Peter said, punctuating his words with a burp. “I’m not going to sit here and be lectured by a guy who’s shot more people than a photographer. You don’t get the moral high ground, Wade. You don’t have a moral high ground. You lost that when you started running around in red, slicing and dicing.”

“You knew what I was about when you met me.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it.”

“What, you thought I’d change?”

“I thought you’d _grow up._ ”

Wade shook his head, smirking. “You know, it’s hard to take you seriously when you talk. I remember what you've let me stick in that mouth of yours.”

Peter didn't reply. He was too busy stuffing chicken down his gullet.

* * *

Once Peter was full, he immediately became drowsy. It wasn’t unexpected, omegas often needed a rest before their heat. He was looking distinctly heavy-lidded, blinking a lot. Wade kind of hated that such a dickwad could get away with looking so cute. “All that food had knocked me out. Time to catch some Z’s.”

“What about me?”

“I don’t care what you do. Don’t go through my stuff.” Peter rolled over and was soon snoring.

* * *

While Peter was sleeping, Wade took the opportunity to study him. 

His brown hair was as thick as ever, with a touch of grey at the temples. Wade often wondered what he himself would look like, if he didn’t have cancer. If he wasn’t a mutant. Would _his_ hair be going grey? Wade didn’t like the grey. It looked handsome, made Peter look more distinguished, but it was another reminder that the man was growing older. Older and older until one day, he’d die. And Wade wouldn’t even know. It’s not like anybody would notify him. He wasn’t Peter’s next of kin or emergency contact anymore. As far as he knew. He was already struggling with the fact that sooner or later, Peter’s heats would dry up with age. He wouldn’t need Wade for anything, then. And as they were, the heats were so sparse. The last time was over a year ago. He’d mentioned it before. Fidgeted, holding an omega health pamphlet behind his back. The pamphlet was a calming pale purple colour, with a photograph of a smiling alpha and omega on the front. The alpha had his arms protectively curled around the omega and she was staring up at him with a sickeningly soppy smile. Wade was pretty sure Peter had never looked at him like that, even when they were engaged. He’d found the leaflet in the health section of Walmart. He’d casually remarked that Peter’s heats were erratic and infrequent and there were services Peter could visit if he wanted to get himself checked up. But Peter had reacted with venom, stating that he was pleased the heats were so few and that if his insurance wasn’t a bastard, he would have had the surgery to ‘scrape out everything’ and ‘not have to deal with that shit anymore’. Wade had smiled and nodded, crumpling up the pamphlet in his fist. He’d burnt it later. Maybe an overreaction, but that bitch omega and her alpha were mocking him with their frozen smiles.

At least Peter didn’t scowl in his sleep. His face was still annoyingly pretty. Plump lips, big eyes, perfectly-shaped brows. He was looking a bit haggard though, his cheeks weren’t as full as before. He was edging on gaunt (maybe Wade should send him some groceries in a few days. He’d bitch and moan but at least he’d eat.) and his skin was pasty. Not getting enough sunlight. Wade added vitamin D tablets to his mental grocery list. Peter muttered something in his sleep and Wade watched him. It would be naive to wonder if Peter ever dreamt of him. He still wondered though. He dreamt of Peter sometimes. The dreams hurt but they were better than the Weapon X nightmares and at least dream!Peter was pleasant to him.

Wade took a sick pleasure in killing alphas. But the sweetest deal was killing alphas who were bonded. He loved to make the final shot or stab and see them topple, their powerfully-built body would sway on the spot and then crash to the ground like a felled tree. It was like David and Goliath. And he knew this freak’s omega would be sitting at home, waiting for their beloved to return. These alphas were bad people. The kind of people Wade got paid to take out, they were murderers, rapists, human traffickers. The ones who were unbonded were expected. The ones who _were_ bonded or even married. It blew his mind. What sort of omega would hitch their cart to a horse like that? A violent drug lord can get an omega to bond with them but Wade can’t even get a good morning text from his fucking _former fiance._

Something that rankled was the knowledge that Peter’s company couldn’t be bought. And that any scraps of attention he threw Wade’s way were very much on his terms. Like now. Wade wanted to hate him. At times, he did. But the hate was always eaten up by his love or lust. The love was a soft, pulpy part of Wade and he loathed its existence. The lust was something hot and sharp, tugging on his guts. He’d happily dissect himself and cut these parts out if he could.

Peter’s sleep was getting more fitful. He was moving, his arms flailing, his brows falling over his eyes, frowning and muttering incomprehensible whispers. 

Soon.

* * *

“Water,” Peter croaked suddenly and Wade was at his side in a second, pushing a bottle to his lips. He hadn’t heard him wake. Peter gulped noisily, drops spilling down his jaw and throat. Wade held the bottle to his mouth until Peter dismissed him, with a wave of his hand. He stuck the bottle back with the rest of the food and turned to face him again.

“How do you feel?”

“Not dead. C’mere.”

Wade knee-walked his way over the mattress. He pressed his fingers to Peter’s forehead and Peter _let him._

“You’re burning up,”

“That’s why they call it a heat,” Peter ground out, letting out a raspy laugh. “Get me out of these clothes.”

 _Gladly._ Wade stripped him efficiently, not letting his hands linger. There would be plenty of time for that later on. Peter wouldn’t merely lie there and take it, he’d be eager. Grabbing at Wade’s skin, begging him. Wade wished Peter had heats every week, every day. He’d take care of him, bring him delicious food and refreshing water, clean him, keep him happy and sated.

* * *

Peter seemed to flip-flop between being dangerously skinny and rocking a dad bod. Wade liked it when he had a little meat on his bones and a slight paunch that Wade could rest his head on. In one of his more sentimental moments, during a heat a few years ago, he’d rested his head on Peter’s round belly and imagined he was pregnant, full of Wade’s seed. Their baby would be beautiful. Wade had had good genes before Sweet Lady Cancer had face-maced him, and Peter was stunning. Their kid would be a brunette, brown-eyed baby with enough mutant powers to level a city. It would be awesome. Just a fantasy, though. Peter was very upfront about the fact that he had a birth control implant in his arm. Wade had run his fingers along it once, felt the hard line of it through the skin. He’d wanted to rip it out of him but instead, he’d nodded and praised Peter for being ‘conscientious’. Peter had given Wade one of his rare smiles. That had kept Wade on cloud nine for weeks.

When Wade had peeled off Peter’s pants, he paused for a few seconds, feeling oddly shy about removing his underwear. Peter grunted: “Get on with it.” The underwear, a simple pair of white boxers, were sticking to him with slick omega lubricant, practically soaked in the stuff.

He tossed the boxers to the floor with the rest of Peter’s clothing.

Peter’s body was flushed, and coated in a light sheen of sweat. He was already obscenely hard, and Wade curled his fingers into a fist to stop himself from touching him. The lubricant was staining the sheets, but Peter wouldn’t care. He didn’t care about much these days. Wade was already getting hard just looking at him.

“Ugh, too hot in here,” Peter mumbled, closing his eyes. The room was warm. Wade had rested his hand on the air-con when he’d been bringing the food in, but the little white unit was covered in about an inch of dust. Probably busted. Wade didn’t know why Peter didn’t text him about it. Wade could have hired a repairman or got it replaced. Stupid, stubborn omega.

“Your AC is broken. I could get that fixed for you.”

“Can’t do anything about it right now. Get on the bed, Wade,” Peter said tiredly. “D’you think this will trigger a rut?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t get ruts much.”

“You did when we were --” _Engaged._ “--younger.”

“Yeah. Here, I brought some wet wipes.”

Wade mopped Peter’s sweaty brow and tried not to think about the past.

The heat was upon him. Wade knew this, he could see it, smell it. Omega pheromones were thick in the air, sweet and richly-honeyed, mingling with the earthy stink of alpha. Peter had been growing more compliant in the last hour or so, letting Wade run wet wipes over his body without complaint. Dipping his head so his throat was exposed. Despite that act of submission, Wade knew that Peter would never allow him to place a bond bite on that perfect neck. Peter would kill him. Or stop talking to him. Which was worse, somehow.

Wade attended to him, giving him sips of cool water, wringing out wet wipes so the moisture dripped down his face. Listened to a half-hearted rant about heats and patronising doctors and how they had yet to make lubricant-proof underwear that didn’t feel like a diaper. And then, diapers made him think of babies so Wade had to hear that Peter was so glad he wasn’t like those stupid omegas he’d see walking around the neighbourhood, staggering under a huge bump, tottering along after some lunkhead alpha.

Peter’s passionate anger died out in the flames of the heat, and as his scent grew sweeter, so did he. Nuzzling Wade’s hand, squirming on the bed, grinding his bony hips into Wade’s palm, muttering things in Wade’s ear that sounded like promises. Wade was reminded of the expression ‘The devil’s voice is sweet to hear.’ This voice was the sweetest.

He rolled Peter on his back, placing a pillow under his hips. Some alphas preferred to mate their omega on their back, but Wade had never understood that. Surely, you’d want to see their face looking up at you?

* * *

Peter spread his legs wide and Wade crawled between them, letting his hands reach up to touch what was _his._ He was pretty sure that Peter didn’t sleep around, that Wade was the only one who got to see him like this. The thought should be comforting, but if anything, it made him angry. He was angry that Peter would sometimes endure a painful heat without an alpha instead of summoning Wade. Was he really so abhorrent that Peter would rather endure physical pain than sleep with him? He didn’t let his ire spill over into his fingers. He was gentle as he worked Peter open, hot lube dripping over Wade’s knuckles.

Peter moaned faintly, opening his legs as wide as he could and slipped his own hand between his legs. He stroked himself in a distracted sort of way, but his hand sped up and his fingers tightened around his flesh as the heat strengthened.

There was impatience now. God, Wade loved him like this. He didn’t want Peter to be coy and placid like omegas in pornos, he wanted that beautiful fire and rage, but he wanted it to smoulder into lust, something hot enough to burn them both. Heat-sharing had been something special when they were engaged. Days of hazy pleasure, rolling in the sheets. They’d tussle so much, they’d break the bed. And Peter would smile up at him. Giggle when Wade kissed a part of his body that was ticklish. Behind his ear. The back of his neck. But then the heat would break over him and Peter would reach for him, his fingers clawing at Wade’s chest, his hands so forceful they’d leave bruises that would immediately heal. Wade wished those marks would remain. He had nothing to commemorate their time together.

He was open, hot and wet, dripping, so ready for Wade’s knot. A savage streak in Wade wanted to prolong this, to see what it would take to make Peter beg and writhe on the bed, or finally snap and impale himself on Wade’s cock. He threw off his clothes, too desperate to be self-conscious and resumed his rightful place on top of his lover.

Wade grabbed Peter’s hips with one hand, using the other to guide himself in. He didn’t stop until his cock was fully seated in Peter. Where it belonged. He gave himself a few seconds to revel in the sensation of being connected to him, but Peter was already scrabbling at Wade’s back, digging his nails in, so he pulled out and drove it back home.

There was no rhythm to his movements. Nothing like the A/O porn he watched so obsessively. This was him and Peter, both of them two broken pieces of the same machine, rubbing together, generating sparks. He wanted to pound into him as hard as he could, but he didn’t want it to stop. Peter’s moans and whimpers were like music, or a balm, or, or something so heavenly sweet and beautiful that it filled Wade up, the same air travelling down his throat and he pressed his lips to Peter’s mouth, wanted to swallow every sound and take it inside. He pushed into him, going deeper, making Peter scream, and cling to his back, rake his nails down Wade’s sweaty chest. He wanted to erase any memory, blank out Peter’s brain the way he’d blanked out Wade’s. Peter could switch off Wade’s thoughts better than any bullet.

The sweet omega perfume was seeping out of Peter’s pores in waves, filling Wade’s air, eating up any oxygen and making the whole room feel like a greenhouse. He’d missed this, God, he’d missed it. He dragged his tongue along Peter’s throat, feeling rough bristles drag on his tongue like rare spices, but Peter smacked his face away, too paranoid about Wade’s mouth lingering near his bond gland. Wade kissed his jaw instead.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Wade lost himself without even realising. He attributed his sluggish brain to the sex and the scenting and Peter and the passion. It was only when he was close to coming that he realised that he wasn’t thinking ‘Peter’ but he was thinking ‘Omega’ and he wasn’t thinking ‘kiss’ but he was thinking ‘bite’.

He tried to tell him, but the omega was moaning wantonly, thrashing his head on the pillow and when Wade spoke, the voice that left his mouth was not his own. It was low, guttural and made Peter shiver beneath him.

“ ** _Omega, my omega,_** ” Wade crooned and he was, he was Wade’s omega because they were here and he was going to be so good to him, he was going to make the pretty omega so happy and he’d mate him and feed him and grow their babies, beautiful babies together and the omega was small but strong, he could take it, he could grow fat with Wade’s child and Wade would give him food but he just had to bond him first because another alpha might take him and --

**_\-- NO! NO ALPHA IS TAKING HIM HE’S MINE HE’S MINE I SAW HIM I WANT HIM PRETTY OMEGA WHITE THROAT WHITE PULSE BITE BITE BITE --_ **

“ ** _Let me bite you,_** ” he whispered and Peter’s beautiful brows drew together in confusion but he was turning his head, offering his throat and the bond gland was throbbing lazily like a flickering neon light, it drew Wade’s attention and he sought it with his teeth. Sought it and clamped down on soft, yielding flesh and felt the connection spark between them.

A wave of emotion was cresting his chest, it was like the warmth of good scotch and the weight of a gun pressed to his heart. He gripped Peter and rocked, emptying himself inside, filling Peter with hot, wet seed and his knot swelled, locking them together. 

Exhaustion hit him like a brick, slamming into his aching muscles, sinking into his bones. He shifted his weight so he wasn’t crushing Peter, and was asleep before he even realised it.

* * *

Wade had woken up to hostility before. A gun pointed at him, a heel pressed to his chest, all the fucked-up ways _Francis_ and the gang used to wake him up. But nothing made terror spike in his heart like the face of one furious omega, eyeballing him over a pillow.

“You _asshole,_ ” Peter hissed.

“Morning, beautiful. Your heat is over, then?” Wade realised their bodies weren’t connected anymore. A shame. But his body felt clean and faintly damp, which made him think Peter had run a wet rag over him or something. That was nice of him.

“You bit me. I can’t believe it. You fucking bit me.”

“What?”

Oh shit. Peter’s neck was pink at the gland, and the skin bore tooth marks. A proud red, like somebody had drawn a circle on the flesh with a permanent marker. Wade felt the colour drain from his face and wondered if he looked as pale as Peter did. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, you got to know, I’d never, I’m sorry --”

“Stop right there?” Peter said, holding up a hand. “I know. You went into a rut. You couldn’t help it. We both fucked up. I didn't think you'd go into a rut but it was still a risk. I should have slapped a muzzle on you or something.”

“No, it's my fault. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut. Jaws. Teeth. Whatever. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“There’s nothing _to_ fuck up. Is there? Let's just agree that we're both morons.”

“I...I guess not. How does it...I mean. Does it hurt?”

Peter pulled a face, poking the tender patch with the tip of his finger. “Sore but it feels okay. Kind of...nice, actually. Weird, huh?”

Wade shrugged. He cleared his throat and Peter looked up at him. “So, I mean, your heat is over. I should go.”

Peter glanced at him and then back down at the sheets. “Stay. You’ve got to call that AC repairman, remember?”

Wade smiled.


End file.
